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"What is it!?!"

A deep sense of fear entered Sieghard\'s heart as he witnessed the rage that could consume the universe in darkness within his son\'s eery pupil. The militaristic eyepatch only further enhanced the tyrannical aura exuding from the enraged King.

"Son, we need to have an important discussion about your sister."

Berengar could no longer hold back his heightened emotions and spat his vile words at his father.

"I swear, if she dies, I will not rest until I have personally tortured every person responsible for this atrocity, and their extended families, to death! I will bury entire lineages and defile a hundred generations of their family\'s graves to get back at them for this atrocity!"

Sieghard could tell that fury had replaced reason in his son\'s mind. If he did not do something soon, the young man\'s hatred would consume him and compel him to commit unprecedented atrocities. Thus, he firmly gripped his son\'s shoulder while staring down the primal fury in the King\'s eye, with a look of compassion, and understanding in his own.

"Son, it is time you learned the truth about your sister..."

Such a bizarre statement momentarily snapped Berengar back to reality as he looked at his father with an inquisitive gaze.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Sieghard sighed heavily before sitting down at the bench in the middle of the hallway. He motioned his son to do the same; it was only after Berengar had sat beside his father, and cooled his wrath, did the old man tell the long forgotten secret of their family.

"Henrietta isn\'t actually your sister, not by blood, anyway. She is, in all actuality, your aunt..."

This statement confused Berengar. He could not fathom such a thing being reality. While his memories of this life were mostly intact, he had no recollection of Henrietta being adopted, thus he asked for clarification on this statement.

"What the hell are you talking about? How is my little sister, my aunt?"

Sieghard chuckled as he recalled his memories of how he first met his little sister.

"Your grandfather was always a bit of a playboy, just like you are. Of course, he did not have the luxury to legalize polygamy, so he always kept a mistress. Despite this, he was careful not to father any bastards. At least, as far as I am aware, Henrietta is the only child he had from one of his mistresses.

In his final days, after my mother passed, he grieved her loss by taking a servant girl as his final mistress. In the end, the young woman became pregnant with his child. Ultimately, she passed away in childbirth, and my father died shortly after that.

Leaving this baby girl alone in the world with no parents, I took sympathy on her since she was technically my sister, and adopted her into our family. Much to the chagrin of your mother. You were roughly ten years old at the time.

You remember how, because of your sickness, we sent you away to a monastery in the mountains to treat you? You were gone for around a whole year, and by the time you returned, we had already adopted your aunt. I didn\'t want you or your brother to treat her any differently than you would each other, so I told you she was your sister who was born while you were away.

As for Lambert, he was so young at the time that he ended up forgetting we adopted Henrietta. Thus, your mother and I could keep the secret of the girl\'s birth, and officially make her a member of our dynasty. I intended to take this secret to the grave, but when I saw her kiss you, I knew I couldn\'t allow you to continue to believe that you were blood related siblings. If Henrietta miraculously survives this, I want you to know that you have my blessing to be with her."

Berengar struggled to cope with this new information. It completely shifted his views on the relationship he had with Henrietta. Now that Henrietta\'s life was endangered, and she had perhaps spent her last moment kissing him, it had made his head spin. Feelings he did not know existed emerged from his otherwise blackened heart. If he weren\'t so consumed with rage, he would perhaps be conflicted with his feelings towards his own flesh and blood sister.

Yet, now that the Berengar knew the truth of Henrietta\'s lineage, it simplified things within his troubled heart. It would not be that abnormal for him to be with his aunt. After all, plenty of Medieval Monarchs had married their aunts. In fact, his predecessors, the Habsburgs, were quite renowned for it. He was already married to his cousin, so what was the difference between Adela and Henrietta now that the truth had been revealed?

Of course, that was assuming she survived this ordeal. Thus, his mind instantly snapped back to rage as his furious gaze swept towards the room where the would-be assassin was being held. Berengar shifted his sight back to his father before nodding his head.

"I understand, if Henrietta gets through this, I will make her a happy woman, but for now I have a prisoner I need to interrogate. If you will excuse me, we can talk further about this when the girl wakes up."

After saying this, Berengar departed towards the target of his vengeance, leaving his father in a state of bewilderment. He did not know what Berengar planned to do to the assassin, but he knew it was not anything good. Still, to see his son taking interrogation into his own hands, that was something he thought he would never see in his life.

The door to the room crept open to reveal the young king of Austria. He had a cold gaze on his face as he inspected the prisoner who was tied to a chair, while surrounded by a pair of Austrian Royal Guards. Berengar quickly dismissed the guards who were acting on stand by.

"Leave us!"

The guards eyed one another with caution. They were about to leave their king alone with a man who had tried to assassinate him. Was this really the wisest course of action? Yet the glare they received when they remained in the room struck fear in their hearts, and instantly spurred them to action as they left Berengar alone in the room with the man who had critically wounded his beloved sister.

After the door was shut behind him, Berengar snarled as he kicked the prisoner in the calf

"You can stop pretending. I know you\'re awake!"

When the man tied to the chair heard this, he opened his eyes and sighed before responding.

"To think I would shoot the princess of Austria instead of my target. Man, my employer will have my head for this one..."

Berengar scoffed when he heard this. He remained utterly silent as he took off his jacket before hanging it on a coat rack within the room. After doing so, he rolled up the sleeves of his finely pressed dress shirt, as he grabbed ahold of a knife that was brought to the room by his guard, along with various other torture instruments.

"I think you should be more worried about what I will do to you!"

The man smirked when he heard this. He was confident that Berengar was an amateur in torture, and thus did not fear what the Austrian King would do to him. While Berengar sharpened the knife in his hands, the man made a bold retort.

"Either you kill me, or my employer kills me. Either way, there\'s not much incentive for me to talk. Go ahead, do your worst. I\'m a dead man, anyway. However, you won\'t get a single word out of me. At the very least, I die as a professional."

Berengar wore a wicked smile as he heard this. He approached the man with his knife in hand, almost as if he were a butcher. He leaned close and whispered into the man\'s ear.

"We will see, for now... This is where the fun begins! Do me a favor and try not to die of shock before I am finished with you!"

After saying this, Berengar brought the knife to the man\'s tight, slowly flaying the skin from his flesh.. The assassin\'s screams would continue to echo throughout the room for the entire night."